


ooh do i love you.

by aceface



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-12
Updated: 2010-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 16:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceface/pseuds/aceface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted at inception_kink for this prompt; Arthur works at the music store in the mall. Eames works across the way at Spencer Gifts. He tries to woo Arthur with stupid, ridiculous items from the shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ooh do i love you.

"Hi," says the guy across the counter. Arthur is unimpressed -- as opening lines go, he's heard a lot better, and the tattoos on the guy's arms immediately mark him out as probably wanting some Eminem -- or, God forbid, 50 Cent. Or whatever chart-topping monstrosity frat boys are listening to these days. Still, the guy's smiling at him -- smug with an edge of something else -- and it is, after all, Arthur's job to help customers. (This is, he thinks, why he should work at the record store in _High Fidelity_ \-- it would be a lot more appropriate for him, as an employee, to be allowed to insult the customers.)

"Hello," he says flatly, and resists the urge to knock over the B.O.B. display with a misplaced elbow. "Can I help you?"

The guy's smile widens, which Arthur is willing to guess is not a good sign, and he leans forward in an over-exaggerated attempt to read Arthur's name from his name-tag (one of the many banes of Arthur's existence). "I believe you can, _Arthur_," he says, and puts extra emphasis on Arthur's name. "I was just wondering what you'd recommend." There's an English accent audible, which possibly renders Arthur's frat boy theory invalid, but possibly not.

"In the entire store, you mean," he says, inserting as much contempt into his tone as possible -- it's a careful balance, because he doesn't want someone to ask for the manager. He is, after all, nearing his last warning re: holding customers in contempt.

"Well, yes," the guy replies. "I'm not going to isolate you to one mere genre. I'm sure a connoisseur such as yourself -- _Arthur_ \-- would prefer not to be limited." His smile, Arthur reflects, reminds him a little of a shark. "So? Or -- no, if that's too difficult for you --" Arthur bristles "--just tell me what you've been listening to, lately."

"Well," Arthur says slowly, mind already ticking and whirring with the possibility of actually getting this guy to listen to some _decent music_, "there is Big Boi." The guy looks carefully blank and Arthur relaxes a little, finally in his element. "It's the MC from Outkast finally doing his solo debut. It's a rap album, per se," he adds, inclining his head in the guy's direction, "but completely inventive and bizarre. It's absolutely fantastic."

"Oh, is it," the guy says, eyes wide, and then a voice from behind him says, "Oh, hi, Eames!" It's Ariadne -- as impossibly cheerful as ever, which Arthur in no way resents -- and she smiles at the guy behind the counter. Eames.

"Did you enjoy Sir Lucious Left Foot?" she adds, and Arthur's eyes narrow as Eames looks as though he's win some kind of competition.

"I did, darling," he tells Ariadne, and Arthur hisses at him across the counter -- "Thanks for just letting me reccommend something you've _already heard_."

"But you looked like you were having so much fun," Eames says innocently, that smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips. He leans in again, as though they're sharing some private joke, and says, "Did you read the Pitchfork review, by any chance? I'm willing to bet that they rated it highly -- tell me, was it a 9?"

"9.2," Arthur admits grudgingly, and Eames looks delighted.

"Here's a novel idea for next time; why don't you recommend me something that you actually enjoy? Unless, of course," he adds, in a confidential tone, "you'd rather us two stand here and recite Pitchfork's best new music list back and forth to each other. I'm sure that could also be arranged."

He leaves soon after that -- not soon enough, by Arthur's standards -- and he waits until Eames has left the store before cornering Ariadne in the back room. "Who was that?"

She blinks up at him, seemingly confused. "Eames? He works at Spencer's Gifts, a bit further down the mall. Why?"

Arthur doesn't respond, just reaches past her for the Ke$ha CDs, and puts Eames out of his mind.

-

The first thing that Eames brings him is an Elvis alarm clock. "You seem like the type of man who would appreciate the classics," he says, in response to Arthur's glare, and sets it down on the counter with something similar to triumph.

"It's neon," Arthur points out, in a faint hope that Eames hasn't noticed, but Eames' nod soon dashes that.

"It is, darling," he agrees. "How astute of you to notice. I was thinking you could put it up in your back room, and then every time you see it, you'll think of me." He beams in a way that looks nothing so much as calculated. "Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"A neon wall clock is not a classic," Arthur says, but Eames just winks at him before turning and sauntering off, whistling _California Gurls_ under his breath. Arthur has it stuck in his head for the remainder of the day.

-

A paper cup is set down in front of him, with something that looks absolutely disgusting. Arthur wastes no time in telling Eames so.

Eames looks wounded, as though he's personally made the smoothie himself, although Arthur knows for a fact that Yusuf is the only one allowed to touch the smoothie maker at Jamba. "But, Arthur, don't you like it? It's a Pomegranate Pick Me Up." He rests his elbows on the counter, looking a lot more at home there than Arthur would like. "Because I thought you could use a pick-me-up, darling, and I assumed that you'd look down on Starbucks. One of this independent coffee shop types, are you?"

Arthur half-wishes he could prove Eames wrong but yes, it's true, and he sees no point in denying it -- he'll just get caught out and look stupid, after all, and that is not something that Arthur will allow to happen. "It looks incredibly sickly," he says instead, stirring it slowly and wincing at the gloopy sensation.

"You don't like sweet things?" Eames replies, and Arthur resists the flush he can feel rising up his neck.

"I dislike syrupy things," he says instead, and hands Eames the cup, refusing to move until Eames reluctantly takes it from him. "If it's all the same to you, I'm entirely capable of purchasing my own drinks."

"I'll keep that in mind," Eames says but, instead of leaving as Arthur had hoped, he instead takes a spoonful of the smoothie and licks the spoon up and down in a way that is nothing short of sinful. "So tell me, have you come up with a recommendation for me yet?"

"Find a new pastime," Arthur says shortly, and busies himself organising the reserved CDs behind the counter, refusing to give Eames the satisfaction of watching him suck lazily on the spoon. It's nothing short of indecent, to be entirely honest, and there should be a law against things like that.

"But _Arthur_," Eames continues, "this one is so much fun. Although," he adds, taking a break from his molestation of the spoon to glance around the store, "you really should have some chairs out. It's just a little too formal, do you know what I mean? I'd love somewhere to relax."

The image of Eames, sprawled out across a chair and grinning, is just a little too much for Arthur and his mouth goes a little dry. Real life Eames grins as well, as though he knows exactly what Arthur is thinking, and Arthur flattens his mouth into a thin line. "Don't you have work to do? I'm sure you don't get paid to irritate me every day, as much of a disappointment to you as that must be."

"Oh, you have no idea," Eames purrs, taking another long swallow of the smoothie. "But in answer to your question, not right now. I'm on a break -- I'm sure you've heard of those?"

"I've even been known to take one myself, on occasion," Arthur replies, and it's almost worth humouring him for the way Eames' face lights up.

"Arthur, dear, you _do_ have a sense of humour!" He slurps the last remnants of the smoothie, dumping the cup into the trash. "But why hide your light under a bushel?"

"Sometimes, you have to go a little deeper," Arthur responds absently, distracted by the new Pop Winds EP. Eames' smirk turns into something dirty and Arthur has just enough time to run over what he's said before his sense of dread kicks in. Luckily, Ariadne interrupts -- she usually makes a point of staying away when Eames comes in, as though there's some point she's trying to prove -- and graces Eames with a smile.

"Hi, Eames. Listen, Arthur, apparently Saito's coming in."

Arthur's suddenly alert -- Saito is the owner of the mall, and loves nothing more than to check up on all the stores. He's not particularly mean, not that Arthur knows of, anyway, he just enjoys wandering around the stores and seeing his legacy, or whatever. Refers to himself as a tourist. "To Music Town specifically? Or the mall?"

"The mall in general, I think," Ariadne says and shrugs. "Robert wasn't especially clear." Arthur will have to ease Ariadne about Robert later -- he works at the pet store, which is owned by his father -- because he always gets worried when Saito is around. Eames pushes back from the counter and favours them with a grin.

"As fun as this has been, I expect that's my cue that my break is over," he says. "It wouldn't do to let the big bad boss see his employees stood around flirting, now, would it?"

It's only when Eames has left that Arthur picks up on what he said, and he glances at Ariadne with a little trepidation. "Ariadne," he starts awkwardly, "you know I think of you as -- as a sister --"

Ariadne starts laughing before he finishes, causing Arthur to fall silent. "I know, don't be dumb. I told you, I have a crush on Robert, anyway. You should see him with the kittens, Arthur, oh my God, it's like the most adorable thing I've ever seen--"

"Then maybe you should let Eames know," Arthur suggests. "I know he's a flirt, but you have to be careful."

"Arthur, seriously, are you really this oblivious?" Ariadne rolls her eyes, wiping down the counter with a cloth. "He was flirting with _you_."

"He wasn't," Arthur says automatically, although the Elvis alarm clock and the smoothie are starting to maybe make a little more sense. "Besides, he flirts with everyone. As I said, Ariadne, he's a flirt. I'm sure this is just his unique way of passing the time."

"Arthur," Ariadne starts, but they're interrupted by Saito, and Arthur is too busy trying to impress him and keep his job to give any more thought to the question of Eames.

-

"Here you go," Eames says cheerfully, and slides a box across the counter.

Arthur doesn't touch it, choosing instead to raise a careful eyebrow in Eames' direction. "And what exactly would this be, Mr Eames?"

"A gift, of course," Eames says, and taps his finger on the top of it. "It doesn't bite -- unlike me, if you're interested."

"Much less subtle than usual," Arthur mutters, but he's intrigued enough to untie the shiny black ribbon and open the box. Inside is a large skull necklace, flat and smiling and covered in -- "Are those cubic zirconias?"

"Nothing but the best for you, darling," Eames says. "We can be like Jack and Sally if you want, et cetera, et cetera."

Arthur blinks at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"And here was me, thinking I'd finally been able to talk to you in your own language," Eames says, and sighs loudly. "Blink-182? Surely you went through the pop-punk stage with everyone else. All the Small Things, Dammit, and, of course, I Miss You?" He shakes his head sadly. "I despair of you sometimes, I really do."

"The feeling is entirely mutual," Arthur says, and lifts the pendant out of the box with one finger. It dangles there, grinning at him mockingly, and Eames leans over the counter to take it from him.

"May I?" He doesn't wait for an answer, slipping it over Arthur's head almost immediately, and it's a heavy weight over his chest. On the plus side, it does obscure his name-tag almost entirely, so. Arthur takes his wins where he can.

-

The seven inch tall Edward Cullen doll is unsettling, to say the least. Ariadne spots it first, sat on the counter with a sticker on its plastic jacket. "It says 'Eames'!" she says excitedly, glancing up at Arthur in the same way he expects she looks at kittens. This whole dalliance with Eames is ruining any intimidation he managed to have over her. "That's so cute, Arthur, look."

"Yes, an Edward Cullen action figure with a sticker is nothing short of amazing," he says dryly, and picks it up to set it behind the counter -- if only because he suspects it will soon become a magnet for annoying, shrill teenage girls. Ariadne rolls her eyes -- again, this is becoming an irritating habit of hers -- and hops up to sit on the counter. "Don't kick your feet against it," Arthur warns, but he doesn't tell her to get down. Never let it be said that he can't be nice sometimes.

"Don't you like him?" she asks, and Arthur deigns to ignore it. "Come on, Arthur, seriously. He's really trying."

"Trying to do what, exactly?" he snaps. As far as he can tell, Eames seems to be doing nothing short of trying to make Arthur look a fool, which is something he certainly doesn't appreciate. "Ariadne, I've met people like Eames before. He enjoys what he perceives to be a challenge, that's all."

"Oh, do I," says a by now familiar voice from behind him, and Arthur very calmly manages to count to ten before he turns around.

"Yes," he says coolly, "you do. As I said to Ariadne, I've met people like you before, Mr Eames, and I don't appreciate your attempts to humiliate me." Ariadne looks between the two of them, clearly weighing up whether she can get away with staying to listen in, and whether or not it would be worth it. Arthur sends her a look implying strongly that it wouldn't, and she makes a face but leaves them to it. Small mercies, Arthur thinks.

"You've met people like me before," Eames repeats, and there's amusement in his tone that Arthur really doesn't appreciate. "Would this be in any way similar to the time when you recommended music to me that I'd already listened to?"

"Seeing as how this is a completely different situation, no, it would not." Arthur feels suddenly tired; it's been both a long and difficult day, and he's not in the mood for dealing with Eames of all people right now. "Look, I understand that you like attempting to get a reaction from me, but I find it irritating and definitely not endearing. So I'd appreciate it if you moved onto your next -- opponent."

"You honestly believe that?" Eames says, clearly still attempting to rile Arthur up. "That I just go from shop to shop, flirting with the assistants?"

"That's certainly the impression you give," Arthur says, and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. "Can you just leave me alone now, please?" It comes out sounding slightly more desperate than intended, and something closes off in Eames' expression.

"If that's what you want."

Arthur puts the Edward doll on his desk that night, and tries to ignore the accusing expression it seems to be giving him.

-

Arthur lasts a week without Eames, putting up with Ariadne's frequent sympathetic looks, before he snaps. "I'm not unhappy," he tells her, once again in the back room. "Okay? I'm perfectly contented and even relieved that he's no longer around."

"Um, okay, Arthur," Ariadne says. "I just asked you if you knew where the new Muse shirts were, but I'm glad you're sharing."

"Yes, well," Arthur says, and realises he has nothing to follow it up with. He's not unhappy -- it wasn't a lie. He's just -- as difficult as this is to admit, he misses Eames. Ariadne's face softens, and she puts a hand on his shoulder.

"It's really good that you can admit this," she says, in a voice so earnest that Arthur considers just quitting his job and never coming back to the mall. He'd be tempted, too, if he hadn't nearly saved up enough for the Lomo LCA+ camera that he's been wanting. He says as much to Ariadne, but she laughs in a much less sympathetic way than he'd hoped. "Why don't you just tell him that you like him? I'm sure that you got him wrong, seriously, he doesn't flirt with anyone else. Except the customers."

She's right, of course, but there's something about the idea of walking up to Eames and saying, 'I was wrong,' or maybe even 'I'm sorry' that Arthur just can't bring himself to do. There must be an easier and altogether less humiliating way.

It doesn't take him long to think of an idea.

-

____spacer____

**Arthur's Recommendations.**   
_grand essentials of happiness._

[1\. Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've) - Nouvelle Vague.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Tqm2IqtfMQ)   
[2\. This Guy's In Love With You - Herb Alpert &amp; The Tijuana Brass.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QF1qFXGWejE)   
[3\. Ooh Do I Love You - Cap'n Jazz.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IS8DWIP0lB0)   
[4\. Stand Inside Your Love - Smashing Pumpkins.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cdsalRiB7u8)   
[5\. La La Love You - Pixies.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnx3lzPIZ6U)   
[6\. I Dig Love - George Harrison.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QclP5AP0Fx4)   
[7\. You Don't Have To Say You Love Me - Dusty Springfield.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QR4vE9xL3yk)

-

"This," Eames announces, "is delightful." Arthur frowns, unable to tell whether he is being mocked or not, and Eames' smile widens. "A mixtape, Arthur, really? It's absolutely precious and, surprisingly, not that predictable. I must say I enjoy the Smashing Pumpkins addition, I would've thought they'd be much too mainstream for you."

"Well," Arthur says, dredging up his memories of the Elvis alarm clock, "I do appreciate the classics."

"I may be being paranoid, but do I see a common theme here?" Eames waves the tape triumphantly. "That you, dare I say it--" He lowers his voice to a whisper, "_love_ me, dear Arthur?"

"It's incredibly difficult to find songs with a common theme of reluctantly liking someone," Arthur says dryly. "I did the best I could with the little I had."

"It's perfect," Eames says, and there's a note of honesty in his voice that Arthur is unused to. "Dare I ask if you'd care to get ice cream with me?"

"I'll take my break," Arthur allows. It's almost time anyway, and he'll deal with Ariadne's good-natured teasing if it means he gets to leave five minutes early.

Eames puts a hand over his heart, batting his eyelashes comically. "One of your mythological breaks? For _me_?"

"Don't flatter yourself," he says, although it's difficult to put much force behind it when he's neatly unclipping his name-tag and laying it behind the counter. "It's this or the Edward Cullen doll; there's not that much to choose between you."

"Ice cream, darling," Eames emphasises and Arthur laughs in spite of himself as Eames grabs his hand and looks ridiculously pleased with himself.

"Only if you don't practice your obscene act on a spoon again."

"If you're lucky, I'll practice on you later," Eames says, with a wink so exaggerated that it shouldn't affect Arthur as much as it does. This time, Eames' grotesque uses of his tongue aren't nearly so bad.


End file.
